Dirty Little Secret
by gracelove
Summary: I'd love to give a summary, but unfortunatly I suck at it. Plus I'm scared of giving the plot away! But this story, I am bringing out a rather mean/reckless side of Reba. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

I've had the idea for a long time

I've had the idea for a long time. If it don't float your boat, sorry – I haven't taken a risk like this on here yet, so…here I go!

Barbara Jean gazed out the back window, biting her thumbnail. Brock had just left again, and he'd not been home for two minutes. Something was seriously wrong, they hadn't talked, touched, nothing, in so long. What was happening to them? It seemed like cracks just spread and zigzagged like the silence, each a barrier between them that repair seemed to great to think about. But how, where, why…

Who?

There couldn't be another woman…could there? No, no way, she shouldn't even go there…

It wasn't the first time she had considered this. Brock had cheated on a perfectly good woman, why wouldn't he cheat on her? She had to have more trust in him than that, though; if he didn't love her, why would he still be here, married to her? It couldn't just be Henry; he didn't stay with Reba for three kids, why would he stay with her for just one?

She jumped as the door opened and Brock came in again. "Sorry, honey, I forgot my checkbook," he said, picking it up off the counter. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Wait!" She hurried to him and threw her arms around him. Although taken aback he returned the embrace, until…

Barbara Jean pushed away from him, a look of horror on her face. "What is that?"

Surprised, Brock raised his eyebrows. "What is what?"

She shook her head, her lips pursed together, eyes huge. "Reba," she said flatly, pointing to him.

His heart did a painful shoot to his throat. He finally managed, "What are you talking about, what's Reba got to do with anything?"

"I can smell her on you – you dirty, filthy…!" she couldn't find the right words to describe him. She could smell it on his shoulders, the fragrance she smelt whenever she was around Reba. She didn't know what it was called, but she could recognize it a mile away.

"I knew it – I knew there was someone else, but…how could she, she's my best friend!" She babbled to herself desperately, starting to hyperventilate.

"And that's all she is to _me_, Barbara Jean, I swear!" he begged. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, we'll go see her right now and I'll let you ask her. You'll see, honey, c'mon."

"Oh, you bet we'll see!" Barbara Jean fumed and stormed out the door, Brock hurrying to keep up.

Bursting into the house three doors down, walking in on Reba fixing lunch for herself and Van in her kitchen. They both looked up from opposite sides of the counter, startled at the state their neighbors were in.

"Barbara Jean?" Reba questioned, barely recognizing the blonde through the rage written on her face.

"Reba!" she yelled, leaning over the counter towards her. Reba backed away a little, Van scooted his chair to the left. "Are you sleeping with Brock?"

"I hope so, maybe things won't be so boring around here after all," Van said wistfully.

Reba had to laugh, and glanced, puzzled, at Brock. "What, Barbara Jean, are you nuts?"

"Well, are you?" Barbara Jean questioned.

"No, of course I am not! Sheesh, don't you think I've learned what happens when I sleep with Brock – I get a pregnant teen, a sarcastic teen, and a bad singer! Not to mention a goofy son-in-law and a ditsy neighbor," she added.

Barbara Jean's breathing slowed a little, then she shot, "Then why is he drenched in your scent, hmmm?"

Reba rolled her eyes. "Relax, Barbara Jean. He smells like me because this morning when I put my perfume on, I turned around and he was in my room, asking if I had a pair of his old golf shoes – and he freaked me out, so I decided he should smell gay today." Reba smirked at Brock, who blushed a little before pointing his finger at her.

"But you _did _have my golf shoes," he pointed out.

"What was left of them. I got so sick of looking at them they became my new favorite stress toys," Reba retorted, then turned back to Barbara Jean. "Are you happy now, there is _nothing_ going on between us."

"Aw, man, fun thins never happen here!" Van commented from the table. "Now can y'all go so Red can finish making my sandwich?" Reba grimaced and handed him the grilled cheese sandwich, and he went to the living room to watch the game on TV. This left Reba, Brock, and Barbara Jean somewhat awkward in the kitchen.

"Well," Barbara Jean blushed a little, trying to smile. "Guess I'll go just…make sure Kyra hasn't shaved Henry's head…later, Reebs….Brock."

As soon as she was gone, Reba, rolling her eyes, turned back to the stove to turn off the burner. Not a second after she had turned she felt hands slide around her waist and turn her around. Next thing she knew, Brock had crashed her into a passionate, wildfire kiss. She returned it, breaking away to smile slyly into his eyes.

"That was close," she whispered.


	2. The Worst Feeling

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It had all started at lunch break one day. Reba had come home to find Brock in her kitchen.

"_Hello, there, Brock, what are you doing here?" she asked, setting her purse on the counter. Brock was looking a little upset, and she thought she may know why; the last time they'd talked had been when she confronted Brock and Barbara Jean about fighting enough to make Kyra feel scared. After he said nothing, she added, "How's your day goin?" _

"_Reba…did you ever want to leave me for anyone?" he asked, not looking at her. He just stared at a spot on the floor and sat with his head resting onto one hand. _

_Reba raised her eyebrows, not sure if she'd heard him right. "I'm having a great day, how about you?" she asked casually in response._

_He sighed a little impatiently and shifted in his seat. "I'm sorry, Reba, I know it's a weird question.…"_

"_Yeah!" she scoffed in agreement, opening the fridge and taking out leftover ham from last nights dinner. "Especially weird to ask the woman you left, as well."_

_He continued, "I guess you know that things are pretty rough with Barbara Jean and I these days."_

_She shrugged, setting the portion she was going to eat into the microwave. "Seeing as Barbara Jean denied it over and over, yeah I knew things were shaky."_

"_It's more than shaky, Reba, it's worse than you and I were. See…_**we**_ separated because we saw the signs and knew we had to do something about it, but…Barbara Jean and me, well, it's like since we're so afraid of divorcing we don't even want to think about taking a break."_

Reba sighed. "So, for this you want to know if I ever thought about leaving you for someone? Well, I can honestly say no, Brock; I can't remember ever even looking at anyone else until I filed for divorce. And I don't think that you should leave Barbara Jean for anyone."

He mumbled something she couldn't understand because the microwave was going off, and by the time she had sat down to eat next to him she was hoping the subject would change itself. They sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts about the past. Staring down at her food, Reba realized that after this topic she wasn't hungry anymore.

"_Do you want something to eat? I lost my appetite." she asked finally. _

"_Reba, I just can't do it!" he burst. Taken aback, Reba stared at him in surprise._

"_No ones making you, I'm not hungry either-"_

"_That's not what I mean, you wouldn't understand." He shook his head, looking away. Even as serious as this sounded, Reba had to laugh._

_  
"What wouldn't I understand, Brock? I've known you for twenty-five years and counting. After that you can't do anything to surprise me."_

_He laughed mirthlessly. "Really? So there's nothing I could say, do, nothing that would catch your attention?"_

_Reba nodded, throwing her shoulders in the air. "Yeah, I mean if you danced naked around the White House singing a Rod Stewart song, I'd be a little freaked, but-"_

_She didn't finish her sentence, because at that moment he had turned and captured her lips in a kiss. It wasn't long, but it was just long enough for Reba to feel flames ignite all over. When they broke apart, her eyes were still closed. _

"_Touché," she murmured, opening them. When their eyes met, it didn't matter that he had just kissed the woman he'd cheated on. That was the first time they'd kissed in almost four years, and instead of changing, every feeling had grown, and right now that was filling her thoughts._

"_Does that surprise you?" he asked quietly. She nodded, still not breaking the eye contact. He chuckled, somewhat nervously. "Aren't you going to say anything?"_

_Shakily, Reba whispered, "What am I gonna do?" Reading Brocks confused expression, she finally looked away. "Now the man I'm in love with knows it.."_

"_That's okay…now you know he loves you, right?" he pointed out, brushing her cheek softly with the hand he held hers in. "What couldn't be right?"_

_She sighed and looked back into his eyes. "He's married to my best friend."_

Then and there, they knew something had to be done, that somehow they'd have to be together. But it would take time. He would have to prove to the kids that Barbara Jean could never be happy with him, he'd have to prove to Reba that he wouldn't leave. That was how the affair had come in; now, he told her that he wouldn't be with her if he didn't regret everything.

Today Reba was laying on the couch, a wet washcloth over her eyes. She wished Brock would come over and they could sneak out to the garage or something.

Barbara Jean had just come in and asked Reba if she would ask Brock if he was having an affair. The truth Reba knew, but she wasn't about to say, "Oh, yeah, he and I have been sneaking around behind your back for awhile now, but don't worry – haven't slept together yet! We just make out passionately whenever we get the chance – if you didn't notice all I wear lately is turtlenecks. Good thing the weather's been sucky, huh?"

One thing was good – they **hadn't **slept together…yet? What was she thinking – there would be no 'yet' that Barbara Jean would know about! So, what was she thinking? What was this supposed to end like, what would come out of it? Anything good? At all? What if Brock didn't go through with his part of the bargain and just changed his mind?

Deep down, she felt incredibly horrible about being the other woman. She remembered how finding out about Brock cheating on her had felt, and she wouldn't want anyone to ever have that feeling, especially not Barbara Jean. Barbara Jean was her…gulp….best friend. Be careful, Reba, don't let that slip again, she said to herself, shivering at the thought.

But mixed with that feeling of bitterness and guilt was one that was very happy. She had Brock back in her arms again, they still loved each other. Knowing that sent sparks flying when thoughts crossed her mind of him. Reba smiled dreamily just thinking about it. That was suddenly crashed by the thought No wonder Barbara Jean couldn't help it.

"Mom?" Cheyenne had just come down with Elizabeth, and noticed Reba laying on the couch. At her daughters voice, she slid the frown off her face and sat up.

"What, honey?"

"Is something wrong?" Cheyenne asked, setting herself and Elizabeth next to her. Reba smiled genuinely and placed Elizabeth on her own lap. "You've been real…strange lately."

Reba tried not to look guilty. "How so…?"

"Well, one minute you're happy, the next your quiet and thoughtful and…" Cheyenne listed, then she froze, her mouth falling open in a smile. "Mom, did you meet someone?"

Rebas had shot up. "What, no! Why would you-"

But Cheyenne was already glowing with a gossip smirk, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Okay, Mom, spill: Who is he? Have I ever met him? Is he hot?"

Reba was shaking her head, desperately wishing that her daughter would shut up already. She didn't need someone on her tail; it was bad enough when Barbara Jean became suspicious. "Cheyenne, there's no one. And if there was, wouldn't you kids be the first to know?"

"Know what?" Van, who had just left the kitchen, asked.

Cheyenne shrugged in a self satisfied manner and stood, and walked to the kitchen as though she were floating on air, singing, "Mammas in love!" as she passed him.

Van looked curiously at his mother-in-law, then smoothly went and sat down next to her. "So, Mrs. H…who is he?"

Reba groaned, reluctantly setting Elizabeth on his lap. "No one! Sheesh, can't a woman have a life without family pokin' their noses in?" she rose and stormed to the door, throwing it open.

"Wait- where are you goin'?"

"Crazy." She slammed the door behind her.

She walked in on Barbara Jean wearing a tiara and veil, gazing at herself in a mirror. At the sight of Reba, Barbara Jean threw off the tiara and began wiping down the coffee table hurriedly.

"Hey, Barbara Jean, how you doin'?" she asked, knowing that wasn't exactly the most sensible question. But when you consider the fact that Reba was the reason she was in this state, well, it makes sense that she couldn't come up with a better intro

"Oh, super good!" Barbara Jean rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, the good thing about your husband cheatin' on you is that my house has never been cleaner! Oh, I wouldn't eat those," she added as Reba leaned down to pick up a cracker that was on a plate. "They're for Brock." She then began to spray them with cleaner viciously, making sure not to miss anywhere.

"Barbara Jean, why don't you just ask him?" Reba sighed, dropping the cracker back.

Barbara Jean's face turned chalk white and she began to shiver. "Oh, no…I can't even look at him without seeing him in the arms of another…of another…" she started to hyperventilate, moving her arms in a circular motion in front of her.

Reba held up her hands, attempting to calm her. "Barbara Jean, fine, I'll ask him! Calm down! Think of something happy!"

The blonde eventually settled down a little. "Beanie babies.." she thought aloud. Her breathing was almost normal again when the door opened and Brock walked in. "Hey, honey," he said. "Hi, Reba."

That sent Barbara Jean flying out of the living room and into the kitchen, sounding like a bird with asthma again.

Brock raised his eyebrows at Reba. "Do you know why she keeps doing that?"

Reba smiled provocatively. "She's afraid someone's gonna come up to you and do this," she said, walking toward him and pulling him into a kiss.

He returned it just as passionately, but broke apart apprehensively to look over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "She might come in, you know."

"Nah, we have a minute. She's still hyperventilating," she assured him, but pulled apart and led him by the hand to sit on the couch. "We do need to talk about this, Brock, this…whatever it is we're doing."

"Having an affair," Brock translated.

"That sounds so…dirty!" Reba scrunched up her face. "But okay, yes, we're having an affair. She suspects it, Brock, she thinks you're sneaking around with someone."

Brock bit his lip. "Look, Reba…I know this can't be easy for you, being the other woman."

"Okay, I've already acknowledged that we're having an affair, do I have to take that title?" she scrunched up her nose again. Brock couldn't help but notice how adorable that was and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I just want you to know…she and I won't stay together much longer. See, you aren't the only person I've been seeing."

Reba stood, anger shooting out from nowhere. "What – you're cheating on me!?" she hissed. "You're supposed to be cheating with me! How many women does one man need?" she repeated Barbara Jean's question earlier.

Brock quickly shook his head, waving his hands in the air and pulling her back on the couch "No – no! Not like that, not at all. See…it was before we started…seeing each other again. Reba…I know that I have so much, I have great kids, I have you, this good life, but I was just not happy at all. I just didn't feel anything but miserable…so I saw a therapist. She diagnosed me as depressed and prescribed me some anti-depressants."

Reba started to feel a little numb around the knees at the news. "Wow…and this is the first time you've told anybody?" He nodded. "So, the only reason that we're 'sneaking around' is because you're trying to feel joy? Oh, this is…this is just great!" she started to rise, but he laid a hand on her knee.

"Reba, of course not!" Brock exclaimed, quite surprised. "Don't you get it – I started feeling this before the divorce, before Barbara Jean! So, basically, everything I've done since it started was because of a mental illness!"

As this sunk in, Reba couldn't help but joke, "I always knew something was wrong with your head." She sighed and looked away awkwardly. "So…wow, Brock. Um…with you in this…situation, how much longer do you think it will be before you…you know." She jerked her head towards the kitchen, where Barbara Jean must still be.

Brock shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Reba, I don't think she should know…"

Unfortunately, this is the exact moment when Barbara Jean entered, breathing into a bag. She dropped it. "Know?" she repeated. "Don't want me to…know? What?"

Reba and Brock had both stood in surprise to face her, hoping they didn't look guilty. Casually, Brock answered, "That…I'm having an affair."

"Brock!" Reba yelled, hitting his shoulder, her heart dancing wildly against somewhere in her ribcage. He couldn't just rat her out like that, she wouldn't take this fall by herself. It was all she could do not to yell, "HE STARTED IT!"

"You….who…when….oh!" Barbara Jean started crying. Glaring at Brock, Reba pushed passed him to hug Barbara Jean, thinking fast.

"Calm down, honey, that's not true," Reba comforted her. "In fact, it's rather simple…Brock is seeing a therapist."

"Who is she, what's the tramps name?" she yelled, shock turning to anger and breaking away from Reba.

Brock sighed. "I'm seeing her professionally."

"YOU'RE PAYING FOR IT?"

"I've been diagnosed as depressed, and they put me on medication. I've been like this for a long time and didn't know it, and I decided I should get help."

Barbara Jeans jaw didn't come off the floor for another five seconds. Finally she put on the best smile she could and said, "Brock, honey, why didn't you tell me? I'm here to support you." She walked forward and hugged him. Neither of them saw that she was holding her breath, trying not to let out the tears threatening to flood out of her. When they broke apart, she didn't look him in the eye, just said, "I think I'll take Henry to the store with me, now…we're out of milk." She disappeared upstairs.

Breaking the silence, Reba said, "Wow, she took that pretty well."

"Yeah," Brock agreed.

But Barbara Jeans supportive attitude had sprung a question into Rebas mind, and she said quietly, "Listen, Brock, she really wants to make this work, are you sure you don't want to-"

"Reba, I know who I want!" he stopped her. He held her by the arms and said, "_Now_ I do. I know who I can't live without, and I'm never letting her go."

Around the corner, Barbara Jean had heard him say this. She felt a smile form on her face and her heart lift for the first time in so long. Then-

"I love you, Brock," she heard Reba say.

"I love you, too."

Horror and confusion washed over her like sleet, rain and wind. She thought he'd been talking about her, but he was talking to Reba! Right in her own house, she was being cheated on.

For three full minutes, she just stood there on the steps, letting this fresh feeling sink in, forcing any and every emotion out. What she'd felt when she suspected it was laughable in comparison. It was as though someone had run away with everything she could believe in, depend on. That she was isolated, lost, empty…and it would always be like that now. Somehow this feeling was too heavy and strong for her to lift.

And she had been thinking of going to get milk. At a time like this when she felt dead.

Looking to her left at the little boy she loved, she noticed he had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Some kind of tenderness kicked in there; he was the only one that loved her. She held him a little tighter as his chubby cheek rested on her shoulder. He really looked nothing like Brock; just the eyes, which were luckily closed. Finally, with a great effort, Barbara Jean turned and slowly walked back up to his room, laying him down on his baby blue sheets.

She didn't realize how tired she was. Gently, she lay next to her son, and before she could stop them, tears were falling. They made no noise, and she again held her breath, at first wishing they would stop. Then she just didn't care, and cried herself to sleep.


	3. Whose the Parent Now?

_If Brock and Barbara Jean split up, and she was with Brock again, this feeling of guilt, heartbreak and self-disgust nestled within her wouldn't budge._

Chapter Three

As soon as Reba got home, the feeling of contentment and joy left her at the sight of her family. When she'd found out about Brock and Barbara Jean having an affair, she'd been so angry at them for hurting the kids so. What impact would this have on them? Could she really bring them to that devastation they'd already encountered?

And she couldn't help but be concerned for Barbara Jean. When Brock had been sneaking around, she knew something was up. Despite the loneliness of separation, he was somehow still satisfied, almost happy. It killed her to know then that she wasn't making him happy…

Which was exactly what Barbara Jean didn't want: Brock to have to go outside their marriage to find happiness.

Guilt piled, fact by fact, onto her heart. She was wrecking a marriage, two people who had sworn to be together forever. Intentionally, in complete awareness of it. She knew so much better than this; she should wait for the divorce, not pull Brock toward it. He needed to end that marriage on his own terms…

But she was so happy with Brock – it just felt…all right, complete, serendipitous.

Had this been what is was like for Barbara Jean, feeling horrible for stabbing her best friend in the back, but wonderful for holding the man she loved close? And she was making Brock happy…he swore that he needed her, wanted her, believed in her, and always had. And it wasn't as though she had nothing to gain, right? Brock would follow through because he loved her enough.

The family was not oblivious that something was going on between Brock and Reba.

Cheyenne was suspicious about her mothers love life, and was on the watch for any clues to lead to possible suspects. It was obviously a hottie; her mom looked great all the time. But he must live close-by, and that was how her mom got to see him so often. So, the first thing that came to mind was her father. She'd originally wanted her parents back together, and still did…but…

Not this way!!

Barbara Jean was her friend now, and she could tell that she was hurting. Did Barbara Jean know? Did anyone but her know?

Van just wanted his wife to stop talking about it and make him a damn sandwich.

Another affair in the family was the last thing Kyra wanted. But she wasn't blind; of course her divorced parents were sneaking around, or something. But what was she supposed to do? What could she possibly do?

It came to her.

She was sitting doing homework in her room. Her Dad was...well, she didn't want to think about that. She'd just finished her essay and turned down her music when she heard what sounded like a sniffle. Raising her head from her desk, she thought she may have imagined it, then heard it again.

Suspicion aroused, she rose and left her room to find Barbara Jean. She wasn't in the hallway, staring at a picture of the cross. If she'd been downstairs, Kyra wouldn't have heard her. She wasn't in Henry's room; he was in there, building towers out of blocks then happily demolishing them with a toy car.

Finally she peeked inside her father and step-moms bedroom and saw Barbara Jean on the bed, facing the door. Tears were running down her face, and she looked more seriously upset and depressed then Kyra had ever seen anyone. And _she _was constantly around hormonal teens.

"Barbara Jean, what's wrong?" she asked.

Barbara Jean sniffed again. "Nothing," she gulped.

Kyra stifled a scoff and eye-roll. "Barbara Jean...look..." she sat on the bed and looked her in the eye. "First off, you're a horrible liar. With that said...I'm your friend. If you to talk I'm only to willing to listen, so...please, what can I do?"

Her step-mom couldn't help but smile at her kind words. She and Kyra had a more difficult relationship now, what with Barbara Jean being in charge, but this 'I'm there for you' attitude was something they'd shared for awhile. She truly trusted Kyra, but...she couldn't tell her what her mother was doing, right? That would traumatize her.

"It's complex, Kyra...you wouldn't understand."

"I might."

"No..."

"Whose involved?" she pressed.

"MMmmmm..." Barbara Jean pursed her lips, resisting the urge.

"What are there initials?"

"Brock and Reba." A second after she said their names, she felt an urge to slap herself and then more tears leaked out. Kyras mind started buzzing with ideas as her heart did a dance to a rock song. This must be bad, and it must be what she had expected. And if it was, then Barbara Jean knew, too.

* * *

Kyra entered her mothers kitchen, anger threatening to boil over and flood like lava from a volcano. She hadn't felt so out of control in her life. When her parents had divorced, she'd hid the hurt with sarcasm. When she'd been last on the family food chain, she'd handled it and hid the pain. But this was different - she couldn't take this crap from her Mom. She'd not been responsible for the last two crisis', but for this one she was. Kyra couldn't tell her Dad to control his hormones - he was a guy, that would be asking for the impossible. Her Mom had the control on herself, and Kyra would hold her to making sure she would.

"Hey, Kyra, how you doing?" Cheyenne smiled genuinly at her sister as she came to the table that she and Reba were sitting.

Kyra glared down at her. Even for Cheyenne that was a stupid question. "How do I look?" she snapped.

Her sister blushed, confused. "Sorry...I didn't think...you always look like that..."

"Will you shut up!" Kyra yelled, really wishing with her whole heart that her sister would be hurt. She was so _sick_ of her!

"Don't you come in here and start yelling, young lady!" Reba scolded, astonished at this behavior taking place, even from Kyra.

"Mom, we need to talk. Alone!" she added to Cheyenne.

Dropping her jaw, Cheyenne looked from Kyra to her Mom, then said, "Fine. Sure sad I'll miss out on this happy conversation!" She huffed loudly and she stormed out.

Reba stood and folded her arms. "Kyra, what's gotten into you?"

"I think you know exactly what could make me this mad, Mom."

"Well, you're hormonal and you live with Barbara Jean. What else is new?" Reba smiled sarcastically.

"I'm just glad I walked in on you and Cheyenne instead of you and Dad!"

The silence that followed just needed polar bears and ice caps to feel more like Antarctica. In other words, the temperature seemed to drop below zero.

"How did you find out..?" Reba managed, her breaths now coming in a gasp.

"A big blonde bird told me."

Reba had to sit. Her legs suddenly felt like jello as her head started to spin. Barbara Jean had found out, and now Kyra knew? What else?

"Look...Mom..." Kyra sat as well. Now _she_ felt a little nervous, just talking to her Mom about this. "I know you and Dad still love each other. I mean, c'mon, who doesn't? You two were together for twenty years, but now...things are way different. And you can't do this to Barbara Jean - you know how it felt, Mom!"

"Kyra," Reba said, swallowing. "May I explain?"

As much as she wanted to listen, Kyra said loftily, "I don't think I wanna hear it."

"Please," her Mother begged. "Please...just...just hear me out. Yes, I do still love your father. He loves me...and we both really like Barbara Jean!"

"Please, Mom, don't give me that!" Kyra exclaimed.

"I do, Kyra, really! She has been my best friend!"

Looking in her Moms eyes, Kyra knew it was true. As hard as it was to imagine, she understood; against her nature she liked her step mom as well, and yes, she was a bitch to her at times, but this was beyond bitchy. This wasn't even like her Mom!

"Then how can you do this to her?" she asked.

"Look, your Father told me that he's going to leave her. Not because of me!" she added hastily as Kyras eyes suddenly flashed with fire. "I told you, he doesn't love her! He tried to, but it doesn't work that way - you can't try not to love someone or to love someone with much results! So what am I supposed to do?"

Kyra shook her head. She couldn't believe her Mom didn't know. "Mom, what did you want Dad to do?" she asked quietly. "When your marriage was falling apart and you were so sick of being alone and lonely and just in the dark, what did you want Dad to do?"

That hit Reba hard. Kyra had been there to see the look on her face when she'd found out about Brock and Barbara Jean. Everyone had, and no one had forgotten the hurt and fear clouding her eyes.

She stared down and whispered. "I wanted him to try...or at least wait until our divorce before he went off with someone else."

"What do you think Barbara Jean wants?"

Reba sighed and muttered sarcastically, "Another Beanie Baby?"

"Mom." This was not a time for joking. "But yes, she does, by the way."

"Okay, fine!" Reba stood. "I'll tell your Dad to do that for her, happy?"

Kyra nodded and stood, starting to leave. "Mom," she said, turning as she opened the door. Her Mom, who hadn't moved, looked across the room into her daughters face. "This...talking to you about this? It wasn't easy. I really, really want you to be happy, but...I know that you'd be happier doing the right thing."

She left, leaving Reba to listen to the words just spoken echo around the room, into her brain, and finally seep into her heart. Kyra was right: Reba couldn't be happy if she was with Brock because of an affair. If Brock and Barbara Jean split up, and she was with Brock again, this feeling of guilt, heartbreak and self-disgust wouldn't budge.

Reba was glad it was Kyra that had confronted her. She could take just that one member of the family putting her in her place. Now, the rest of the family giving her the third degree? NO!!

"Cheyenne?" she said quietly.

Silence. Then-

"What?" she heard come from the other side of the hatch.

"Did you hear anything?" she asked as pleasently as possible.

"Ummm...maybe a little.." Cheyenne's voice said meekly.

"Maybe I didn't say that right. DID YOU HEAR ANYTHING?" Reba yelled.

"Nope, nope, not-a-thing!" she replied quickly.

Yes I know this chapter is short, but I'm on vaca and I really wanted to get this updated!! Review if you like, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Face to face: Does he love you?

Chapter Four

"Mom, wanna watch a movie?" Jake asked later. It was his bedtime, he was in his pajamas holding his movie. Judging by the way he kept rubbing his eyes and yawning, he'd be asleep in no time. She smiled warmly and said, "Sure, honey, put it in."

He obeyed and joined her on the couch. By the time the previews were over, just as Reba'd suspected, he had fallen asleep, his head on her lap. She smiled down at her son and slowly stood up, still holding his head until she'd slipped a pillow beneath his head. She pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and covered him with it, tucking his feet in at the end to make sure they wouldn't get cold.

Reba checked her watch. It was quarter to nine. She'd been putting off talking to Brock all day, and now she just had to - no more procrastinating. She was about to leave when Cheyenne came in from the kitchen and said, "Mom?"

She turned and faced her daughter. Cheyenne had on her serious face, and Reba had a feeling she was going to get it. She sighed.

"Cheyenne…" she began wearily, then was interuppted.

"Mom, I don't think you should stop seeing Dad."

Rebas surprise couldn't be measured with words. "Excuse me? You think I should just keep having an...affair?" The words till burned her tongue with uncomfortable honesty.

"Yeah, I do." Cheyenne smiled slightly, seeming nervous but determined. Reba still couldn't wrap her head around it, so she continued, "Mom, don't you get it? Dad and Barbara Jean were splitting apart anyway – they were never meant to be together. You and Dad were made for each other – I see that, you do, everyone does, so you shouldn't feel guilty."

Reba did believe that part about them being made for each other, as cheesy as it sounded. But she couldn't just not feel guilty about what she was doing. "Cheyenne…I get what you mean, really I do, and I do appreciate your honesty. But…I do feel guilty. I don't wanna hurt Barbara Jean any more than I have, she deserves to be given a chance with Brock."

"No, she doesn't, Mom!" Cheyenne begged. "I like her, I really do, but this isn't about her, its about you!"

"Cheyenne that's crazy, it's all about Barbara Jean – if it weren't for her, me and Brock wouldn't be…an affair – but now that it involves her, and she's my friend, I can't do this anymore!"

"Are you sure? Because that sure didn't stop Barbara Jean," Cheyenne argued.

Reba couldn't fight anymore. Her mind was made up, and she really was too tired for an explosion and argument right now. "I'm sorry, Cheyenne." She left, leaving her daughter wondering what her mother _wouldn't_ do for someone who totally didn't deserve it. When Cheyenne had gotten knocked up, her Mom welcomed her and her new husband into her care. When Brock knocked up Barbara Jean, she'd forgiven them. Now, she had a shot at happiness and she was giving it up because of Barbara Jean, because of her kids…it was so admirable but so painful to watch. Cheyenne didn't know if she wanted to be like her Mom or just slap some sense into her.

On her way down the street, Reba tried to block out the words Cheyenne had spoken. She told herself she didn't believe them and tried to fill her head with other words…like the ones she'd say to Brock when she told him goodbye. She was in no way prepared for this.

She ended up walking in on Barbara Jean whacking stuffed toys with a skillet (A/N: This would be in the episode Core Focus, btw). When she saw Reba, however, she froze the skillet over her shoulder as the door shut. Not a word was spoken as the two stared into each others eyes, each knowing what the other was thinking.

Reba finally broke the eye contact and leaned against the door. She hadn't counted on seeing Barbara Jean…This was very, very awkward.

But Barbara Jean didn't look very scared. More like a little dignified, it was a look worn by Reba often. Very dignified, actually. Expectant. Finally she broke the cold silence. "How does it feel?" she asked.

"Horrible." Reba didn't have to ask what she was referring to. "Like I'm pressing knifes into my stomach. You?" she added, now a little dignified herself.

"Like I'm being whipped with sword-ended rods on the back." All this that was said betweem them so far had very little emotion used, but that changed now.

"Look…Barbara Jean…" Reba stepped foreword and looked into her eyes. "I just want you to know…I came over here to tell Brock that its time for us to call it quits. I want him to try to work it out with you."

"And if we can't work it out?" she pressed.

"Then, no matter how long it would take, I would wait for him to be available again." She had to be honest.

There was silence as Barbara Jean decided that was all right, then asked a question she was honestly curious about. "Does it feel like…you're feeling the pain you cause me?" she asked slowly. Reba raised her eyebrows, muddled. "I mean…like you can feel my pain, too, and it adds to yours?"

Reba hadn't thought of it like that. She gave a miniscule shrug. "I guess…yes, it does."

The blonde nodded, looking down. "I…know that feeling."

Now Reba asked, "Do you feel like someone is forcing the pain into all your senses?" Barbara Jean gave a miniscule nod. "Been there."

"Reba, are you sure you want to do this?" Barbara Jean burst, looking up. Her eyes were rather watery. "You and Brock…you could truly be happy together, and he and I…" she pursed her lips, shaking her head. "We just don't have a chance, Reba." Her voice broke towards the end of the sentence. Reba felt tears in her own eyes and she walked foreword, pulling Barbara Jean into a close hug.

"You have a chance," she whispered into the blondes shaking shoulder. "That's why I'm doing this."

"Reba?"

The two women broke apart to see Brock coming into the kitchen, curiosity, concern and confusion etched onto his face at the scene. Barbara Jean couldn't help but notice he'd barely glanced at her, and left without another word. She couldn't watch this take place in her own house like a fool. Reba stared after her until she heard, from what seemed like a long ways off, Brock call her name..

She turned her head to meet his eyes. The moment their eyes connected, it was as though the world around them had ceased to be anymore, and a whole new life was evolving where their eyes touched each other. Inside was passion, and a pure perfect understanding of each other…everything love was made of. This wasn't new to them, though…this world had always been there when they were together. Brock thought it had vanished when they were apart, but it would always be there, as long as they loved each other. He loved how whenever their eyes met, he caught a glimpse of this heaven.

A volcano of hurt was building inside of Reba, then erupting when the hurt seemed to much for one mountain. She was saying goodbye to this world, what she had with Brock, to give him another chance with Barbara Jean. She had to, there was no way out of it. She couldn't have her kids resent her…but why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to survive this time, live on with the knowledge that she had lost him again?

How could she tell him it had to stop…how could she possibly bear it?

Her mouth seemed to know that what she was about to say would rip her to shreds and was trying to stop her. Her throat had closed itself up with a huge, constricting bubble, trying to block the burning and splintering words her voice had to form. The conflict avalanching through her heart and soul rose in a flood, springing tears from her eyes that immediately fell, cascading down her cheeks.

Brock couldn't understand this. Placing both hands on her cheeks, he moved his thumb over her cheekbones, doing his best to wipe the tears away. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Reba felt his touch warm her comfortingly, which only made it harder. She pulled away, much to his surprise, and wiped them away herself. "Brock…please, don't make this worse."

Worse?? What…she didn't mean…

He felt the thought cross his mind, but erased it. No, this couldn't be goodbye, she wouldn't…

"I want you, Brock…I do…I love you." She gulped, wishing he could just know that already so she didn't have to build up this mountain anymore. "But…its not about just us…it's about the kids, Barbara Jean…"

"Reba, I told you, I feel nothing for her – nothing," Brock begged.

"_That's_ the problem! Brock, you have got to try to make it work, you have to try, or the kids will never forgive us."

Silence. Brock took in what she said, what she meant. It made sense, there was no argument. Why was there no argument? Why, somewhere in that book of Right, couldn't there be someway out of losing Reba again?

"Okay." It was all he could say. Words were utterly failing him now, he couldn't say what he was feeling; he didn't know what words to use that could possibly describe them justly. But by the look on Rebas face, this was Hell for her as well and he didn't need to explain anything to her. Anyway, it must be written on his face.

She nodded, then turned to leave, feeling like she was walking on knives. "Reba…" he whispered before she stepped out the door. She stopped in her tracks, not looking back.

"I don't think I can." His voice broke; it was weak, coated in despair.

"Try." Her voice was firmer, clearer. Finalizing. Reba was gone.

**I was thinking about turning the next part into a sequel but decided otherwise. What did you thinK? I know it's another cliffhanger, but honestly is there any other way to end a chapter? I think not.**


	5. D I V O R C E

Chapter Five

Both Hart residences had a foggy, rainy cloudy forecast. Ironic and maddeningly enough, the next day was a sunny puddle of…sunshine. No one was exactly feeling it, everyone was just plain grumpy.

Cheyenne and Van, sitting in the kitchen with Elizabeth, hadn't spoken to each other. Cheyenne wasn't even sitting at the table with him, but at the island. She scowled at him until finally he looked up from the Sports section. "What?" he said, clueless.

"Do you have to chew your food so loudly?" she snapped. He stared down at the yogurt he was eating for breakfest wondering if it was possible for him to chew it.

"Uh…"

"Fine, go eat in the living room!" she yelled. Van just sat there, not entirely sure what to do or why this was happening.

"Cheyenne, I'm eating yogurt. I cannot be chewing loud!"

"Well then stop slopping it around in your mouth, its gross!"

"Its food, Cheyenne. I WILL savor it my mouth!" he argued. Cheyenne was about to retort when a whimper was heard. Elizabeth had watched her parents fight with a hurt expression; it scared her when they fought in front of her.

Ashamed, Cheyenne ran her hand through her hair and smiled at Elizabeth, walking to her and pulling her out of her high chair. "C'mon, honey, Mommy's not mad anymore," she promised.

"Really?" Van asked hopefully. She stuck her tongue out at him as she headed upstairs to dress Elizabeth. Her husband sighed, then commenced to add grape-nuts to his yogurt and chomp as nosily as he pleased. Unfortunately Reba walked in a moment later, in a similar mood as her daughter.

"Geez, Van, do you have to chew so dang loud?" she snapped, pouring coffee into a mug. Van sighed, defeated.

"I'm sorry - I'll just go eat in the living room!" He rose, but Reba stopped him.

"Van! No eating in the living room!" Out of frustration she had poured too much creamer, and hence one sip curved her lips into a wince. Frowning in disgust she dumped her coffee down the drain. Deciding it wasn't worth trying again she grabbed her purse and started out the door.

"Mrs. H, where're you going?" Van called.

"Work." She slammed the door behind her, before he could remind her that it was Saturday and she didn't work. Of course, she knew that. But Brock or Barbara Jean would be by soon with any bad luck so it was best she go and avoid him at all cost.

Reba had no idea where she was going to spend the day. The last place she wanted to go was the mall; shopping on a bad day was always regretted later. She wasn't hungry at all. So until a place was going to stick out at her, she'd just drive around aimlessly to clear her head.

She turned on the radio. Luckily all the songs were about small towns and summertime rather distracting. For awhile all she thought about was who was better: Brooks and Dunn or Montgomery-Gentry? Then the commercials came and she changed the station. Unfortunately the song was, to say the least, depressing. Even more unfortunate, it hooked her in and she couldn't change it.

_I know when she's been on your mind  
That distant look is in your eye  
I thought with time you'd realize  
It's over, over  
It's not the way I choose to live  
And something somewhere's got to give  
As sharing this relationship gets older, older  
You know I'd fight for you  
But how I can fight someone who isn't even there  
I've had the rest of you now I want the best of you  
I don't care if that's not fair_

Cause I want it all  
Or nothing at all  
There's no where left to fall  
When you reach the bottom it's now or never  
Is it all  
Or are we just friends  
Is this how it ends  
With a simple telephone call  
You leave me here with nothing at all

There are times it seems to me  
I'm sharing you with memories  
I feel it in my heart  
But I don't show it, show it  
And then there's times you look at me  
As though I'm all that you can see  
Those times I don't believe it's right  
I know, know it

Don't me make me promises  
Baby you never did know how to keep them well  
I've had the rest of you  
Now I want the best of you  
It's time for show and tell

_Cause I want it all  
Or nothing at all  
There's no where left to fall  
When you reach the bottom it's now or never  
Is it all  
Or are we just friends  
Is this how it ends  
With a simple telephone call  
You leave me here with nothing at all_

_  
Cause you and I  
Could lose it all if you've got no more room  
No room inside for me in your life  
Cause I want it all  
Or nothing at all  
There's no where left to fall  
It's now or never  
_

Beep. The radio was going to have a time out for awhile now. Reba looked out the window as she stopped at a red light to find something else that could occupy her thoughts. Still, whatever was on the end of that pull that was reproaching her for running away from her problems probably wouldn't let her escape too long. In any case, everything was reminding her of Brock. If she thought of something that had nothing to do with him, that _very fact_ entered her brain. Even to her it made no sense and she was getting really annoyed that her thoughts couldn't…you know!

Finally, when Reba couldn't get a thrill out of driving anymore she pulled into the parking lot of a park next to the river. Stepping out, she was immediately nearly blinded by the sun and slipped on her shades she usually wore driving Rhonda. She walked slowly over to the nearest bench and sat down. Still, with all the noise, it wasn't really distracting so much as annoying. So she rose again and made her way to the riverbank. Sinking down on the grass just before the ground started to descend, she rested her chin in her knees. The sun moved behind a long, thick blanket of clouds. No need for sunglasses now; she sat them next to her and closed her eyes.

There had to be some way for her to cheer up. Well, there was one sure solution, but she didn't wanna think about it.

Barbara Jean had been debating whether or not to go over and see Reba all morning. She hadn't spoken to Brock since last night…what a night.

_Brock just stood in shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Reba had left. Left. Suddenly he was aware of another presence in the room and turned, hoping foolishly that Reba had returned and come through the living room to him, but standing there was Barbara Jean. Her expression was almost passive; it was like staring at someone who is asleep; lips closed and in a flat line, eyebrows resting in place. But her eyes….her eyes told everything. She knew everything. _

"_I…" Brock began, his voice catching in his throat. _

"_You're sorry?" Barbara Jean finished for him, still with that passive, omniscient look on her face. He couldn't disagree with that, and nodded. "Sorry as in because you had an affair or because you want to give up on our marriage?"_

_When he couldn't answer or meet her eyes, she just shook her head in unspeakable disgust, her lips pursed in a tight line and eyes flashing. She turned and was gone, her heels echoing with each step, finally fading when she was halfway up the stairs. The sound was somewhere in the background of his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he really sad right now…or did he just need another pill? Was it just the depression? _

_No. The depression deprived him of happiness, sucking it out then numbing him. This was just…torture. He felt like a prisoner of Alcatraz, looking from a far distance over perilous waters at the lights that represented joy and life. _

_Barbara Jean, sitting in her room, was past the whole stage of complete desolation. The remnants, in the form of anger and disgust, still lingered in the pit of her stomach. Why had Reba even bothered? Of course her intentions were for the better…well, not having an affair with hers husband, of course, but by coming over and breaking up with him. But what was the use anymore? _

She had sat in her room all morning, replaying everything she'd heard between Brock and Reba last night. He was just trying to make things work out of duty, and Reba was going along with it because she was Reba.

Finally, Barbara Jean stood up. Her long legs had cramped up from being folded underneath her for so long; she hadn't gotten any sleep. She stretched them and changed into more comfortable clothes, then went downstairs. Brock was sitting at the table, watching little Henry eat his breakfest with the hint of a small smile on his face. When he saw Barbara Jean, a shadow passed over his face and she noticed. She sat on the other end of the table, but not before grabbing a pad and pencil. She scribbled on it, then pushed it across the table to Brock. He picked it up and stared at it.

_I have a question.._

He felt the pencil hit him in the head and, wincing, picked it up off the floor and wrote _Shoot. _

Taking a deep breath, Barbara Jean scratched out _Do you love Reba?_

Brock winced again. _Yes. _

_Do you love me? _

_Yes._

_Not the same, is it?_

_No. _

_You're certainly talkative. _

_Sorry. Look, Barbara Jean, I'm willing to try to make our marriage work. Would you agree to therapy?_

_Brock you're crazy._

…_?_

_I don't love you either. _

_Look, I want to try to make this work. For Henry._

_That's not enough, Brock. If we want Henry to be happy, I think he'd be happier in a happy home. Is that what you call this? _

_No. Barbara Jean…I am so sorry I did this to you. I really, really am. _

_Yeah, yeah okay. Not now, Brock. Sorry, but I can't take it – I don't want an apology._

_What do you want?_

_I want a divorce. _

**Sorry I've been not updatin a ton lately…school starts real soon and I'm kinda stressed out!! Strange as it is, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter just because of all the description. I thrive on descriptive writing, ha ha. L-O-L (Lots of Love)!**

**PS: Anyone know who sings the song I named this chapter after? **

**Song: All or Nothing by O-Town **


	6. Check Yes or No

Chapter Six

As two weeks went by, Reba continued to avoid Brock, and, as often as she could, the rest of her family. They all knew what was going on, she could tell – just by the way they were awkward around her, and it just made her even more ashamed. They could never forgive her for this. She knew _she _wouldn't. Ever, ever, ever!

Reba did anything and everything to distract herself and stay away from everyone. She found herself constantly asking if she could work late or come in early. Her boss was grateful but had no idea who in their right mind would want to work such long hours for that pay. But no one asked questions – she didn't talk to them unless she had to.

Did she know it wasn't healthy? Well, yes, of course she did. But she was just so angry at herself she didn't care. It wasn't feeling sorry for herself - she was just plain sick of herself for doing this to everyone!

It wasn't long before someone finally forced her to talk. No one in her family could bear to see her being so hard on herself.

Reba was sitting on her bed in her most comfortable pair of sweats, going over bills. It was a few minutes before she realized that she'd finished them the night before and, frustrated, stacked them up in an old binder and dropped them on the floor, stood, and kicked the lot under the bed. She was just hoping that they hadn't spilled out and disorganized themselves when she heard a knock on the door.

She looked warily at the door and sighed, defeated. "Come in," she said, her voice barely over a grumble. It was probably Cheyenne, wanting to lecture, or Kyra to make sure she hadn't snuck around with Brock lately.

In came…Van. He looked as nervous as the butterflies doing the conga in her stomach. He shut the door, casting a glance behind him as though it may be his last of the outside. "Um, hey Mrs. H."

"Hey, Van." Reba responded suspiciously. Van nodded, and leaned against the door, letting out a long breath.

"Um…" he began after a pause. Reba stuffed her hands in her pockets to disguise her shaking hands. "I think we should talk."

"Did they put you up to this?" she accused, jerking her head towards the wall behind her, where Cheyenne, Barbara Jean and Kyra could be listening in. "If so, can you please just-"

"Cool it, Mrs. H, they have no clue. In fact, they've all got this agreement not to talk to you about this and would be coming after me with spears if they knew about this, so…don't tell them, m'kay?"

Reba held back a smile; he was so ridiculous. "Then why are you here?"

Taking another breath, Van shrugged and said. "I figured you should talk about it." _Should_ talk about it, not want. He may not realize it, but he had avoided a great argument by not saying that she _wanted_ to talk about anything. Because she didn't.

Reba let out a sigh, refusing to look touched. "I don't know, Van…" She looked up to see if he had changed his mind, but the firm, caring expression on his face had not changed. The only thing that had changed that he had opened his arms a little, as if he knew what she need the most. She buried her face in her hands and nodded, unable to hold back the tears that were just powerful enough to seep through her fingers like sand.

Reba felt Vans arms around her and his head rest on hers. "I'm sorry…" she mumbled as clearly as she could.

"Don't you dare say that," he said, but he couldn't manage a very stern voice with his chin trembling. He felt horrible for making her show weakness, but he knew this was the only way. He pulled her away to face her, holding her shoulders. "Lets sit down." She obeyed and he asked, "Mrs. H, you want him back." It wasn't a question. She nodded guiltily.

Van took a deep breath, elated with the fact that he could deliver this good news. "Well, I got some good news, Mrs. H…while you've been zombie-ing your way around here, they've been getting a divorce. Kyra's moving back in here, too, as soon as its final."

Rebas head shot up to look into his eyes, and for a moment, he saw, to his relief, the first glint of hope he'd seen in them for awhile. It flickered for a moment, then died. She shrugged. "It doesn't make any difference. I can't have Brock now, not after this. Not after I lied to everyone, how could they accept us now?"

Van scoffed. "Mrs. H, if you haven't noticed, we're all a little stupid!"

"Van-"

"No, listen! We. Are. Nuts! All of us – Cheyenne and I had a baby at 17 – you accepted it! Your husband broke your heart for another woman – you letitgo!"

"I what?" Reba asked dully.

"Letitgo. Kinda catchy, huh?" Van winked, then put his serious face back on and continued, "Mrs. H, after all you've forgiven, how could you think we wouldn't forgive you?"

"What about Kyra? Why would she forgive me, she doesn't owe me anything." Reba was getting a little desperate for an arguement; if anything could happen (but she was flat-out sure that nothing could) she wouldn't have anyone upset.

"Mrs. H, do you have any idea how bad she's felt all this time about moving out? That's why she's coming back, too."

Reba condisered everything. She could somewhat believe that what Van told her had merit. True; she was forgiving of her family's stupidity, but what she had done was…worse! "Its great when you say it like that, Van…and, thanks, but…I just can't believe that they'll all just forgive me like that!" she snapped her fingers for effect.

Van bit his lip. "I think they will, Mrs. H, and I'm gonna prove it."

Reba shook her head tiredly. "Van, please – _please_ don't ask them."

"Leaveitome, and letitgo." Reba managed a weak laugh as he hugged her.

"I guess I can't stop ya…but, Van-"

"Letitgo!"

* * *

"Hey, honey, whatcha doin?" Cheyenne asked, coming into their room the next morning in her bathrobe, her hair up in a towel. Van was sitting on their bed, one leg hanging off the bed, and was scratching something down on a piece of paper.

"Something very important – here, sign this!" He handed her the clipboard the paper was on. Holding her robe more securely with one hand, Cheyenne read the title. Her eyes grew huge.

"Van, are you nuts? You can't make a petition like this!" she squealed, looking around for something to hide it in. Her eyes lingered on the pillows.

"Hello, it's America!" Van rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you know you wanna sign it - its for your Mom."

Cheyenne sighed, torn. "Yeah, but, you really think she cares what we think on the matter?"

He scoffed, "Oh, she cares!" and handed her a pen. She cautiously signed it and handed it back to her husband. "Thanks, honey. All right, now for the rest of the family..."

Luckily Kyra had come over and was eating breakfest with. Elizabeth and Henry. She loved children as long as she could give them back when they got fussy. Van walked in on her sitting between them, pouring as much sugar as they wanted onto their cereal.

"Kyra, I need you to sign this petition," he said, holding it up. Kyra smirked. "Van, for the hundredth time, I don't care about free video games for football-playing fathers."

"Ha-ha, very funny!" he scoffed darkly and set the clipboard on the table. Leaning over and reading it, Kyra's eyebrows raised.

"Huh," was her only reaction

"Uh-_huh_, sign it!" Van pressed.

"You really think she'll listen to this?" Kyra asked suspiciously.

"Why does everyone doubt me – yes, of course she will, sign it!" he repeated impatiently. Shaking her head, she obeyed.

"Thanks Kyra. Hey, Jake!" He beamed at the dark haired boy walking in. "Hey, can I get your autograph?"

Jake grinned. "Sure! Is this about me only scoring three goals for the other team on Saturday?"

Next, Van went to the really hard one: Barbara Jean. He didn't especially want to do this but he knew how important it was to Mr. H. Nervous, he pep talked his way over to her house.

"C'mon, Van…you can do this…it's okay…three houses down…two houses…you can do it….one house…up her walk…What if she's crying? Up her walk again…you'll be okay…"

Next thing he knew, he was knocking on her door. She opened after a few moments. "Van, since when do you knock?" she asked in surprise. "Oh, those are…wow…!" she stared in awe at the roses in his hands.

"Hey, Barbara Jean." Van pushed the roses at her, keeping the hand with the clipboard behind his back. "May I..?"

"Sure, come on in!' she allowed him inside, accepting the roses, but surprised when he did a sharp turn to face her and keep his back away from her view. "What's behind your back?" she asked innocently.

Van laughed nervously and revealed it. "Will you sign this?"

"Um…okay?" Barbara Jean set the roses on the couch and took the petition. Her face formed a very surprised expression – whether or not she was mad was impossible to tell. "Oh.." she shrugged and signed it, handing it back with a smile.

"Really?" Van was suspicious. "Really, you're okay with it?"

"Van, soon Brock won't be that part of my life anymore, of course I'm okay with it. And this is very sweet of you to do for Reba, I hope you realize," she added, touching his shoulder.

Van shrugged, flattered. "Thanks, Barbara Jean." Glancing at his paper, he added, "Well, looks like I got everybody. Now I just gotta talk to Mr. H."

"You're having him sign this…? Van, wouldn't that be, um, strange?"

"No – I'm gonna have him _give_ this to Mrs. H," he corrected.

Barbara Jean took a moment to recover from this news. Her face looked like it would if someone had announced that Reba was joining the Mafia. "Van…" she said, laughing nervously. "You're nuts."

He shrugged again. "Yeah, thats I'll be wearing some kind of armor over the next few days."

**Soo sorry for the wait! Its been hectic - I think I live with a circus. Plus my break from purgatory is over and I'm back at school. "Its like work, but without the money".**


	7. And the petition says:

Chapter Nine

"Van, no."

"Yes."

"No!"

Brock was at his condo, arms folded and face set. Sure, the petition wasn't a bad idea, but there was no way he could be the one to give it to Reba. She wouldn't even be in the same room with him anymore. He had tried calling her cell phone, but she wouldn't answer. Now, he would just called it to hear her voice on the answering machine, promising the caller she would get back to them as soon as possible. He was waiting for her to add "Unless you're Brock, in which case stop calling my phone like a creeper-stalker!"

Now Van had come over with a ridiculous petition/acceptance form and told him to give it to Reba. He continued to attempt reasoning. "Van, look – it's a good idea, but she won't take it seriously, especially not from me!"

"How can she not – Mr. H, she loves you! Don't ask me why, okay, she just does! But she won't have you unless she's sure everyones forgiven her. Now if you don't take it I'll have Barbara Jean give it to her."

"No!" Brock repeated, attempting to snatch it from Van, who just held it over his head. He was taller than Brock, who could only jump at it like they were two kids on a playground in kindergarten. To an onlooker, this scene would be very funny, but it wasn't to either of them.

"No, Mr. H. Not until you promise to give it to her." He set his jaw, and his eyebrows pinched together. If this had been any other day, Brock would have told him he needed to get them waxed.

He sighed, and nodded. It was the only way if he wanted to avoid Reba getting even angrier. Barbara Jean giving her a petition like this was unthinkable. "I promise." A very self-satisfied Van handed it to him.

"And don't worry about her not wanting to be around you. This very moment, Cheyenne is-"

But he couldn't finish his sentence. Before he could elaborate, the door flew open, and with it came Reba. Her enormous blue eyes were blazing and she looked as angry as Brock had ever seen her. If she'd looked a little saner, he would have been glad to see her; this scene had been played out a few too many times, though. Quickly he hid the clipboard behind his back, hoping she hadn't noticed. By the look on her face, she wasn't about to say if she had or not.

"Brock, what the Hell is wrong with you!?" she yelled. "How can you think you can just make some kind of decision like this?"

"Later, Mr. H," Van muttered, looking scared. He told Cheyenne to get her over here, not light a fire in her pants. He left as fast as he could without running.

"Reba, what are you talking about?" Brock sighed when they were alone.

Reba's glare turned to a sneer and started walking closer to him slowly, menacingly. "What amt I talking about? Well I'm not talking about you quitting dentistry. I'm not talking to you about getting a vasectomy. Hmm, must be something new! Brock, why on earth would you want to move our entire family up to California? We can't just move away for your stupid golf tournament!"

"Reba, will you relax and let me explain?" Brock sighed, understanding what was going on. Reba huffed and folded her arms, a 'this better be good!' expression on her face. "Look, this was just the kid's scheme for you actually to be in my company."

Now_ Reba_ looked like she understood. Her face turned from an angry red to a soft blush. "Oh," she said shortly.

"Yeah," Brock said nervously. "They…thought I should be the one give you this." He held out the clipboard.

Curious, Reba took the clipboard and read paper aloud. "'We the undersigned have decided to forgive Mrs. H for pulling a Barbara Jean and would be totally fine – would even like it – if she and Mr. H got back together. Amen.'" Below were her family's signatures, including Jakes and a little scrawl with one of Elizabeth's crayons in the shape of a smiley face. A lump formed in her throat as she studied the page. It must have been Van; who else would refer to them as 'Mr. and Mrs. H'? And, obviously, this was the family's way of saying 'Go for it!'

"What do you think?" Brock's voice cut into her thoughts. She swallowed, wishing she could speak, or that he could read her mind.

Of course they still had a ton to work on – but of course, they would know what would happen if they let up this time. That nothing couldn't be said. She didn't want him to think that winning her back was this easy, though. "Okay, what if I said that I was willing for them to forgive me – even to forgive myself. What's next?"

He didn't have an answer. He stared back helplessly into her scared, waiting eyes and knew that he had to say something, anything, to get the light back into those eyes. "You know…Reba, I can't answer that. But if you asked me if I loved you enough to get there so we could find out, I could answer that in a heartbeat. If you asked me if that's what I wanted, I'd say I want it more than anything else. And if-"

I guess we'll never know what he was going to say next. Because at that moment Reba pulled him into a kiss, one she had been longing for ever since she told him goodbye. And I'm sure that whatever he had planned to say he forgot, too, because right as their lips touched happiness was the only thing on their mind. The petition fell to the floor as they held each other. She broke from him to lean her head against his shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes just like they had done for nights and nights, but so much differently. These weren't hopeless, lost and angry tears. These were…well, you know what kind I'm talking about. Brock held her tightly, his head resting on hers. If only this could have happened years ago. But it was worth waiting for.

**Well, thats it, folks!! Sorry, I had to cut it short, if I was gonna finish it at all. Thanks so much for sticking with me!! This was somehow, strangely fun to write, despite the depressing-ness. I swear I'm not a miserable, pouty, angsty teenager; just a very creative one. Love you! **


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